His Wife
by Mrs. Crocodile
Summary: Post Asylum of the Daleks, Rory and Amy still have things they need to work out.


**Author's Note:** I'm sure there are a bajillion stories just like this one. Better stories even. But I'm pretty new to Doctor Who, and I don't know anything about those. It bothered me how Rory and Amy could get that close to divorce without her ever telling him _why_ they were getting divorced. So I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and voila.

Also, general apologies for being an American writer. If you want to point out glaring cultural or linguistic errors, I will consider making revisions based on those suggestions.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the situations or characters of Doctor Who. No money is being made off this story. Please do not sue me.

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**Title: His Wife  
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**Summary: **Post Asylum of the Daleks, Rory and Amy still have things they need to work out.

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Rory Williams was lying awake, in his bed, with his wife. There was something that was keeping him from falling asleep, and he wished he could just put it out of his mind. Because it was not something he wanted to think about right then. He just wanted to be happy in this moment, with his wife.

He whispered her name. "Amy."

With her back to him, it took her a second to respond. "What?"

Her gravelly voice made it clear that she had been sleeping. Obviously. He almost said it could wait until the morning. Except it really couldn't. "I still have the . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say the word, so he just left a blank for it. ". . . papers. I mean, I don't actually have them with me right now." Actually he had no idea where they were, or his bag. He'd have to check the bus depot in the morning. That wasn't the point though. "But my point is, I didn't have time to do anything with them before, you know, Daleks. So do you still want me to . . . get those filed?"

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. Rory was not even sure if she had stayed awake through that rambling mess. He was renewing his internal debate about the urgency of the topic when Amy said, "Uh, no. No, I don't want that."

He felt like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. "Okay. Right, no, me neither." And he could've left it at that. He got the answer he wanted. Why push it? "One more thing, though. You know I've been staying at Eric's house. Well, he's been hinting that it might be time for me to get my own place." He meant to get a question in there somewhere, but he didn't quite manage it.

Amy went onto her back and turned her head so that she could see him. Her Rory. For tonight he was still her Rory, but nothing had really changed. All her reasons for ending the marriage were still there. The only thing that happened that day was a weakening of her resolve. She watched him work his jaw like he was trying to come up with something else to say. Finally, she put him out of his misery. "Are you asking if you can move back in?"

"Maybe."

He was hedging, scared. Which made sense, because even with everything, this was one of the scariest things Amy had ever faced. She wanted to tell him yes, that she never really _wanted_ him to move out in the first place. Instead, she didn't say anything.

"Look, if you're worried that I'm going to resent you because we can't have children-"

She looked up at the ceiling. "It's not just that."

"Oh." He sounded so dejected.

They were going to have to talk about it now. She was going to have to say the thing that she had managed not to say throughout the whole divorce process. "It's my fault."

"What is?" When she did not answer, he tried to guess. "You mean what happened at Demons Run? Because, Amy-"

She shook her head. "All of it. Everything that's happened, I did that to you. _I_ ran away with the Doctor, and I dragged you with me."

"You didn't _drag_ me." She couldn't quite place his tone. Offended? Concerned? Confused?

"Yes, in the beginning I absolutely did. That wasn't a life you chose. You would've been happy staying in Leadworth forever. You were only there because of me, and if you had just fallen in love with a proper, normal girl, you wouldn't have had to stand outside a box for two thousand years, and you wouldn't be being kidnapped by Daleks, and you . . ." This was the hardest part to say. She struggled to get it out before the tears came. "You would still have your daughter." She took a shuddering breath. "I can't give you what you deserve, Rory."

That last sentence was so ridiculous to Rory that it took a second to even register. He took her hand in his. "Yes, you can. Of course you can." How could Amy believe otherwise? How could they have come this close to losing their marriage over such an absurd idea? Now she was crying because she thought _she_ wasn't enough for _him_? "Right, so if there is one thing you need to know about me-"

"I know everything about you," she interrupted with the slightest hint of a smile in her voice.

He'd always thought so. "Clearly not, because you missed a very important bit, which is this: the only thing in this universe that I couldn't do without is you. So maybe next time, instead of kicking me out, you could give me a choice about whether I want to be given up."

Amy sniffed. "I was doing it for your own good, stupid."

That was when he knew for sure that this was the night they stayed married, that everything could be resolved right here, right now. The moment when she used that special pet insult. She tried to pull her hand away, but he just held on tighter, lacing his fingers with hers. "I don't care about any of that. Really. I would gladly face down all of the Silence, and the Daleks, Cybermen, Venetian vampires, all of it, if it meant being with you."

"I know," she said quietly. She rolled onto her side to face him, bringing their interlaced hands up between them. "You've make that clear. It's just . . . If I do this, let you move back in and stop the divorce, I need you to know that that is me being selfish. Because you're wonderful, and I don't want to lose you."

If he was wonderful, it was because of her. He would not have been able to do any of the things he did if he was just with some proper, normal woman. He could keep trying to explain that to her, but now that she had finally, almost definitely given in, Rory decide it was time to start wrapping up. "I'm sorry I said I love you more that you love me."

She brought her free hand up to cup his face and countered with, "I'm sorry I made you think you loved me more than I love you."

"So it's settled then. We'll both be selfish and stay married." He came up on his side to meet her. "Rest of our lives, that's what you said."

She smiled at him. No more tears, no more doubts, no more divorce. This morning started out as one of the worst days of Rory's life when Amy put ink to paper to end their marriage with no hesitation. And it really just got worse from there. But it was all worth it to get to this moment.

He stroked her hair with the hand that was not holding onto hers. "I'm going to hold you to that, Mrs. Williams." Then, with their arms all sorts of tangled, Rory pulled his wife, now and always 'til death do they part, into a deep, marriage-solidifying kiss.


End file.
